


The Connoisseur Conflict

by PearlButterfly



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hannibal Lecter is not amused, Hannigram - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Will gets Hannibal to try pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 23:46:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlButterfly/pseuds/PearlButterfly
Summary: Will decides to order a pizza for dinner.Hannibal is not impressed.





	The Connoisseur Conflict

Will could understand Hannibal’s frustration.

The man liked control, liked being assured of himself. His physical strength was essential for this, whether he was hefting up a dead body or single-handedly preparing a dinner party. He relied on it.

That was why Will was partly amused when Hannibal had tripped over the edge of the rug and fallen down the stairs, ending up with a broken wrist. Of course he kept that amusement to himself.

Hannibal seemed completely defeated, like the cast on his wrist was handcuffs, preventing him from doing the things he loved most: cooking and killing. Not necessarily in that order.

Will had unofficially moved in, telling Hannibal that he’d help him out with all the things he couldn’t do. Hannibal, who had always been viciously independent, was happy to have Will around but hated that it meant he had to become reliant. Needing someone else’s help to properly do up his ties when he wore suits everyday must have felt like a return to the dawn of time for him. Will persisted to help despite the man’s grumbles and insistence that he could still do everything himself.

Will had told Hannibal that he was going to make them dinner tonight, leaving no room for argument. Hannibal might have a way with words but when Will set his mind on something there was no talking him out of it, so it was agreed.

But after inspecting Hannibal’s kitchen and realising that he didn’t even know what half of the appliances were for, Will had a genius idea. If he ordered them a takeaway then the food would taste good and he wouldn’t have to cook it. Happy with himself, he grabbed his phone and dialled the number of the closest pizza takeaway place, ordering one large pizza.

It was only after he hung up that he realised Hannibal would not be happy at being forced to eat takeaway. The man was beyond gourmet, cooking dishes with so much precision and attention. Will couldn’t even pronounce the names of most of them. But he didn’t think Hannibal could complain, after all the man had fed him human flesh countless times, and it was still human no matter how appetising Hannibal made it look. Tonight he could step into Will’s world.

The knock at the door was faint enough that Hannibal upstairs didn’t hear it. Will got up and opened it, slipping the money and a tip to the deliveryman, thanking him. Then he went into the dining room and opened the box, the smell of good pizza hitting him straight away. He set it down in the middle of the two chairs which were facing each other and then walked back into the hall.

“Dinner’s ready!” Will called up the stairs, sitting down in his usual seat.

Hannibal walked into the dining room and then paused, blinking. “Will, what is this?” He gestured at the open pizza box on the table.

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “It’s dinner.”

“You ordered a pizza?”

“I told you I was going to make the kind of food that I enjoy.”

“I wouldn’t call ordering takeaway food making dinner.” Hannibal looked decidedly unimpressed.

“Yes but what you call dinner and what I call dinner are two really different things. I don’t really fit into your whole grand, mannerly thing. Now it’s your turn to suffer through my world.”

Hannibal sighed like it was the hardest thing in the world, but he sat down opposite Will. “Where is the cutlery?”

“You don’t need cutlery, Hannibal. Honestly, you’re not that old that you don’t know how to eat pizza. And how were you planning on using a knife and fork with only one hand?”

Hannibal didn’t respond, which Will took to mean the older man was sulking. He attempted to use his fork one-handedly to lever a slice of pizza onto his plate. When it didn’t work the first time he persisted valiantly for a full three minutes before reluctantly admitting defeat. Will kept his smile to a small quirk of the lips at Hannibal’s grimace when the grease of the pizza got on his hands, dropping the slice like it had offended him and wiping his hands over dramatically with a napkin.

“Just try it,” Will said, grabbing his own slice with a lot less restraint. He lifted it up and took a bite, realising how much he’d missed this since living in Hannibal’s gourmet world for a while.

Hannibal gingerly lifted the slice again, inspecting it. “The cheese looks odd.”

Will openly rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you’re just a food snob. Also, I think you’re scared that you’ll like it and it’ll ruin your whole gastronome identity.”

“I don’t believe there is any danger of that, Will.”

“Just try the pizza, Hannibal. Whenever I complain about your fancy cooking you always tell me I can’t say I don’t like it before I’ve tried it. Hell, you eat humans, I think that’s a little more inhumane than a takeaway pizza.”

Hannibal looked even more offended at having his own words used against him. Will was pretty sure that if Hannibal didn’t love him he’d be dead and becoming dinner himself. Nevertheless, the older man took a bite of the pizza, looking thoughtful. Will raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Hannibal dabbed at himself with a napkin before speaking. “It would certainly be an improvement for the sauce to be fresh.”

“I think the whole point of fast food is that you don’t have to make it fresh.”

“And I do not support the cardboard packaging.”

“So you’ve not only got a problem with pizza but with the box it comes in as well?”

“It cannot be hygienic.”

Will took another bite of his own pizza, determined not to let Hannibal ruin this experience for him. “Just finish your dinner.”

By the end of the meal, Will had eaten most of the pizza. Hannibal had managed two and a half slices, voicing his disapproval to the other man with every bite he took. He wrinkled his nose at Will’s lack of manners when he reached out and grabbed Hannibal’s unfinished third slice, cramming it in his mouth and getting crumbs everywhere.

“You got sauce on the table,” Hannibal told him, pointing to a smear near Will’s plate. It was barely there but Hannibal looked distraught. His look didn’t improve when Will wiped at the smudge with his greasy napkin. “I’ll get something to clean that properly. And I’m the one who is supposed to be resting, what with my injury.”

“Now you’re pulling the sympathy card?” Will called after him. “I apologise if ordering a pizza for dinner has somehow made your broken wrist even worse.”

Hannibal didn’t respond, choosing to be a silent martyr as he wiped down the entire table, knocking the pizza box onto Will’s lap.

“You’re the one getting crumbs everywhere now,” the younger man told him, picking up the box and heading into the kitchen to dispose of it. He was tempted to leave it out on the side and see Hannibal have a breakdown about it in the morning but decided he wasn’t quite that cruel.

Hannibal came into the room, throwing the cloth he’d been using straight into the bin. “I can’t say I’ll be adding this pizza you seem to like so much to my menu.”

“Are you still sulking?” Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck, pulling their bodies together. “I’ll have you know I put a lot of effort into making the perfect dinner.”

Hannibal sighed grudgingly, but his hands moved to Will’s hips. “Thank you for letting me know that I’ve taught you nothing.”

“Maybe we’ve just got different tastes.” Will leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Hannibal’s lips.

“Maybe.” Then Hannibal was removing Will from him. “Now go and wash your hands before you get grease on my collar.”


End file.
